In Between
by Obsession137
Summary: Mona opens her eyes to a world of grey. The afterlife. She doesn't remember who killed her, and she doesn't know how to move on. She's also madly in love with Hanna, who doesn't know that she's standing right there next to her. Hanna/Mona
1. A World Without Colour

**In Between**  
 _A World Without Colour_

When I open my eyes, the very first thing I notice is that the world seems grey. Literally, like the world has no saturation. I'm lying on my living room floor. How did I end up here? Was I drugged?

I can't remember a thing. When I try to think back all I get is a blurry mess.

The last concrete memory I have is saying goodbye to my Mom outside the house. I decide that I probably fainted or had another panic attack. That's not uncommon for me these days.

I stand up and look at the clock. That's odd, I think. The clock isn't working. I shrug and walk towards the front door, which is open. That's even odder.

As I step outside, there's an ominous feeling in the air. I can't put my finger on what it is. Something really isn't right here.

Something about the world that seems to be drained of colour. Something about the eerie silence. I can't hear any birds, planes or cars. It's just nothing.

There's no wind blowing, and it's November. It feels like time has just frozen and I'm stuck here.

As I walk down the path to the end of my front yard, all I can hear is the echoing of my footsteps on the concrete.

"Hello?" I call out. My voice seems louder than usual. It feels as though the entire world can hear my voice, but it also feels as though there is nobody in the world _to_ hear my voice.

Maybe this is just a weird dream.

I pinch myself, and then pinch myself again when that doesn't work. Nope, I'm still standing here.

I walk a little further down the street, thinking that whatever is going on is very surreal. I don't really know what's going on, but I know I should keep calm.

I hear a faint noise coming from somewhere behind me. I turn around, but I don't see anything that could be making the noise. It gets a little louder, until I decide that the sound is a siren.

I can see the outlines of a car next to me, very faint. I step back, slightly frightened. The car begins to become brighter and brighter, and more solid right in front of my eyes. I'm bewildered. A car just appeared out of nowhere.

That's when I realise that the world is back in colour. And the noises are back. Many sirens, many people's voices. I hear people shouting, people crying. I look around.

The first thing I really notice is the yellow police tape over my front door. My heart drops.

Has something happened? Has somebody hurt my Mom? I try not to think about it. I will find out before I jump to any horrible conclusions.

I run forwards, towards my house. I weave in and out of the many people standing in the street in front of my house.

"Excuse me," I say, but there's so much going on that nobody is listening. I duck under people and finally I reach the front, where I recognise Detective Holbrook standing by my front gate. I am about to ask him if I can go through when he clears his throat and the crowd go quiet.

I step back to hear what he has to say. I realise that there are news reporters standing with him, and I wonder why my house is going to be on the news.

I am so utterly confused, and terrified at the same time.

"The investigation is ongoing," he says into the microphones of the reporters. "But we have ruled this a homicide."

Homicide? I feel goosebumps rise all over my body. So someone killed someone in _my_ house? Please don't let my Mom be hurt.

"Although we did not find a body, the amount of blood in the house would indicate that the wounds were fatal."

I feel like I am suffocating. I don't want to hear the rest but I need to know. I don't move at all, I just stay fixed in one spot staring at Holbrook, feeling sick.

"Mona Vanderwaal was murdered."

What? I wonder if I am hearing this correctly. I hear a scream, and recognise my Mom immediately. She is standing to the side, clutching her stomach and she is repeatedly crying "no, no, no!"

What is going on? Can't they see they have it all wrong? I'm standing right in front of them.

I can't stand to see my Mom hurt this way. I run towards her.

"Mom? Mom, it's okay. I'm here!" I say. "Mom, look at me, I'm alive."

I reach out to hug her and I feel my knees hit hard ground as I fall straight through her. This is strange. I stand up and try to touch her arm, but my arm just goes through her as though I'm touching nothing.

This is when I begin to panic. I look around hysterically for someone, _anyone_ else I know. I see Aria and Mr. Fitz. Emily and Paige. Hanna and Caleb. I run towards them.

"Can any of you see me?" I shout, glancing between them. "Hello?"

They are all crying into their other half's arms and if I wasn't so panicked right now I would be quite flattered that they are upset about this.

But they're crying over _my_ death.

How is that possible, when I'm standing right here. I step closer to Hanna, and stare into her bloodshot eyes.

"Hanna?" I whisper, hoping that somehow she'll hear me. I close my eyes. I want to cry but no tears are coming out. Do ghosts have tears?

I am not a ghost. I refuse to believe that.

But what other explanation is there?

I wave a hand frantically in front of Hanna's face, and she just buries her face in Caleb's chest. I feel frustrated.

"Hanna, please hear me," I say. " _Please_."

Still no response from Hanna. Maybe I am dead. I inhale and exhale. How am I breathing?

Maybe it's an illusion of breathing.

Why have I not moved on? I always believed that ghosts either went to heaven or hell. They didn't linger. Yet, I'm still here.

Who killed me?

I try hard to think back but again, all I see are blurs. Horrible, frustrating blurs.

I wonder where my body is. Obviously not in the house, otherwise they'd have found it. Maybe I was buried somewhere. Maybe my killer has my body.

I look at Hanna once more and see the heartbreak and I smile just a little.

I have been in love with her since day one. Since the day I first saw her...

* * *

 _We are in the school cafeteria on my first week at Rosewood High and I am sitting at my table when I first see her. I stare. She's not the obvious beauty. She's a little on the chubby side, and looks to have very low self esteem by the way she's standing, but there's just something about her. I find that I have to talk to her. I decide that maybe I should go and get myself another drink from the vending machine where she is standing._

 _Straightening my glasses and pursing my lips, I head over to this mesmerising girl._

" _Hello," I say, as I wait in line for the vending machine. She smiles at me and my heart jumps a little._

" _Hello," she says back in a high voice._

" _My name's Mona," I say with a smile. "What's yours?"_

" _I'm Hanna," she replies. I am about to invite her to sit at my lunch table when a tall slim blonde girl approaches and gives me a look that gives me a shiver._

" _Why are you talking to_ her _, Hanna?" the girl says. "She's a loser. Come on."_

 _Hanna looks apologetically towards me and then follows the girl away. I stand there feeling lost._

* * *

It feels like a lifetime away. Knowing now that my life has ended, I wish I had made the most of it. I wish I had just kissed her when I had the chance because now I can't, and I never will.

She will never know how I feel about her. I will never know if she ever felt anything for me.

I move a little closer to her and smile a sad smile.

"I'm in love with you, Hanna," I say. Even though I know she can't hear me, I still feel anxious. "I'm in love with you, and I wish I had told you before now."

She's still crying her eyes out, so I lean forwards I kiss her forehead, though I feel nothing. It's like kissing air.

I walk away because I cannot stand to see this anymore. I decide to go into my house again. Maybe it will trigger some sort of memory.

Not like that will help me.

I step through the front door and immediately I notice all the blood that was not there when the world was grey.

I place a hand on my chest and drop down to the ground. The very same spot I was lying in when I opened my eyes earlier.

My life ended here.

And my afterlife began here.


	2. Adapting

**IN BETWEEN**

 ** _Adapting_**

It's been a whole day. Maybe two whole days. It may have been a week. Perhaps not even an hour. I can't tell. Time is meaningless to me now.

I haven't moved from my spot in the middle of the living room. Not even to look out of the window or to check the time.

Police have been in and out but I haven't been listening to a word they have been saying. My Mom hasn't returned. I have just been staring at my hands, which look so real and solid. Such a heartbreaking illusion, that sometimes I even forget.

I don't feel like a ghost.

I feel like I should eat something, but then I remind myself I _can't_ eat. I can't do anything. I'm just stuck here.

Oh, what I'd do for a chocolate bar right now.

Sighing, I stand up. It looks like it should be cold in here, so I automatically wrap my arms around myself, as if it makes me more alive than not hugging myself.

I walk towards the front door and a Policeman walks straight through me. I'd have to get used to this. As I step outside I notice that the crowd is gone, and my house is no longer interesting to the people of Rosewood. Funny how people move on so quickly in this town. I can't really judge - I was one of those people not long ago. I was the type to gawk at a tragedy and then to walk away as if nothing happened and never think about it again. The people of Rosewood were simply doing what they always do.

I wonder where my Mom is. Why has she not returned home? She probably can't bring herself to face it. I feel like maybe I should go and find my Mom, to see if she's doing alright. After all, her only child is gone.

Gone.

Not really. I'm still here, and it sucks.

I walk down the street, trying to think of some sort of explanation for why I'm stuck here and not moving on. Maybe it's because I've not been a nice person, and this is my punishment – to walk to Earth as a ghost for all eternity.

I regret being a bad person. I honestly regret it. I was broken. That's my lame excuse. I was broken and acting out.

Not that it matters now.

I walk and walk, with no direction. It's painfully boring being dead. And lonely. It's not like I can even just pick up a book and read. Not unless I sit behind someone who's reading a book, and it has to be something I'm interested in, at least.

I reach the corner of my street and stop, paralysed in fear.

There she stands, seeming to look straight at me. Alison.

I gulp and a shiver runs down my spine. Why am I scared? I'm dead. It's silly really, that even though there's no way she can hurt me anymore, I feel utterly terrified at the sight of her. I mean, surely I can haunt her.

But I can't even smile at the idea of haunting the girl I despise. I step to the side, and her eyes stay glued to where I was just standing. I then realise she was looking straight through me and at my house. A smile graces her face as she stares and I feel anger bubbling up inside me.

She killed me.

Okay, that's just a guess, but if I had to say who was most likely to have killed me I'd say Alison. This thought just makes me angrier. _I_ should have been the one to kill her. It makes me look weak.

I snort. What does it matter now? Nobody cares if I appear weak. I'm gone. Or so they think.

I turn my back on her and walk down the next street.

When I was at Radley, some days when I wasn't away in a daze, all I could think of was how I wanted to die. That my life was pointless, and that I would welcome death with open arms and a friendly smile. I would stare intently at the wall and refuse to eat or drink anything I was given, hoping I'd maybe starve to death. That was, until they started force-feeding me.

Anyway, off topic. I never appreciated my life. I never appreciated how smart I was. If I had put more effort into my schoolwork instead of hurting people, maybe I would be at school right now instead of haunting Rosewood. I never appreciated that I was a great singer. I could have made a career out of that. I never appreciated my hacking skills, and had I used them for good instead of evil, maybe I'd still be alive.

I wonder if Spencer will be given my early acceptance spots at college. I hope she does. I honestly do feel sorry for everything I've put the girls through. Spencer particularly. I think that perhaps we could have been friends if I hadn't had such a vendetta against her. We're similar. Or, we _were_ similar. I'm not an _am_ anymore, but a _was_.

I could have made up for all that I'd done, but my time was up.

I decide it's probably best not to think of what could be, and just accept what _is_.

It starts to rain, and this is a feeling that I can try to describe, but it's difficult. I don't notice it's raining until I recognise the smell, and then I realise the world has become a little darker.

I watch the raindrops go straight through my skin and I feel as though I can feel them. If that makes sense. Although I have never felt water go right through my body from my head to toes, that's the feeling I'm conjuring up right now and it's an oddly nice feeling. Makes me feel alive again. Makes me _feel_ again.

Feeling is something that is taken for granted far too much. Most times, we wish we couldn't feel because it would save us from so much pain, but not feeling anything physically – and I suppose emotionally – is a horrible fate. It disconnects you from the world.

I suddenly feel sorry for Alison, but I push it away before I can think anything of it. She doesn't deserve my sympathy, sociopath or not. Especially since she probably killed me.

I step out of the way of a puddle before I remember it won't matter if I step in it.

"It's annoying, isn't it?"

The rain begins to get heavier and I can actually hear it pounding the ground now. It's weird being in the pouring rain without an umbrella and not getting even a little bit wet.

"Are you going to ignore me, then?"

A little curious part of me makes me turn around to see who's ignoring who.

"Ah, so she finally listens."

I stare. She's standing there in the pouring rain, smiling at me. The rain goes right through her. She has her arms folded and her eyebrows raised.

"How's death treating you?"

"Maya St. Germain?" I say, in shock.


	3. The Truth At Last

**IN BETWEEN**

 ** _The Truth At Last_**

"Yeah," Maya replies. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Very funny," I reply dryly. I never really knew Maya very well personally. I knew what I managed to dig up about her while I was A. She probably didn't know me very well either.

"Come with me," Maya says with a smile. "You probably have loads of questions."

I nod silently and walk towards her. We walk side by side, me glancing over at her every now and then in some state of shock. It's weird for me to see her again, walking right next to me. As though we're alive and just walking to school.

"It's weird at first, I know."

"You've been here since you died?" I ask stupidly. Well of course she has.

"Yeah," she says. "We all have. We've been waiting for you."

"You _all_?" I ask, feeling confused. "Why me?"

"Well," Maya says, turning to look at me. "Not _you_ in particular, but for _anyone_ really. You just happened to be the one to bite the dust."

I roll my eyes. "A little more respect please, I just died."

"Sorry," she replies. "I forgot that it's a little upsetting at first."

"A _little_? My life just ended! Why are we stuck here?"

"Now that's a question that we are hoping will be answered very soon," Maya says. "But first, let's get you back to the others."

"Others?" I ask.

"Yes," Maya says, half smiling at me. "Come, quick."

I follow her down each street, wondering who these 'others' are and where we're going. Neither of us say another word to each other. We walk past Spencer's house, and it's difficult for me not to ask Maya to stop so I can go in. I don't even know _why_ I want to go in. It's like I miss Spencer. I'm not even that fond of her but I miss having her around.

We walk right past Spencer's and down another street and the rain has stopped now.

I still find it surreal that I'm following Maya St. Germain – the girl who died months ago. I try not to think about it because it hurts my brain.

"We're here!" Maya chirps, walking straight through the door to a random house. I hastily walk straight in behind her and I realise that the house has no furniture. Peering back out the window, I notice the house is for sale.

"You live in this empty house?" I ask.

"It's kinda like our 'headquarters'," Maya says, shrugging.

"Okay, who else is here?" I ask, fed up with the cryptic crap. I want answers, and I want them now.

"There are seven of us," Maya explains. "Well, eight now. You're our eighth member."

"Member?"

"We call ourselves 'The Rosewood Dead Club'. Well, some of us do. Others find it stupid."

"Depressing name," I say. "So others who died are here too?"

"Yes," Mays says. "We're kinda like a small dysfunctional family. It's complicated."

"Can I meet them?" I ask, peering around. Maya nods.

" _HEY GUYS!_ " she yells. "I BROUGHT MONA BACK. COME SAY HELLO!"

I feel just a little nervous. I don't really know what to expect. What I don't expect is for the other 'members' to come walking through the walls. I don't know why I imagined I'd hear doors opening and footsteps, because I should really know by now that I'm dead and they're dead so walking through walls is normal.

I see Ian Thomas, a young blonde girl, and older woman, Mrs DiLaurentis, Garrett Reynolds and Detective Wilden. All smiling, and looking at me as if I'm the most exciting and important person – okay, ghost – in the world.

"Hi," I say awkwardly. "Sorry, I know most of you, but-"

The older woman I don't know steps forward and smiles weakly. "I'm Marion Cavanaugh. I think you know my son."

"Oh, Toby's Mom," I say quietly. This is just so weird. I look at the young blonde and hold out my hand. "Wait," I say. "Bethany? Bethany Young."

"Yes," she replies shyly.

"Nice to meet you, er... I guess," I say pursing my lips. "You've all been here all this time?"

"Yeah, it took a while for them all to stop arguing though," Maya says, rolling her eyes. "You see, half of them wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the other half. All these deaths are so interlinked."

"So who killed who," I ask, feeling genuinely curious. "I've been dying to know the answers."

"Ah, time to exchange death stories," Ian mutters, dropping to the floor. "Let me begin. Alison killed me. Because of some videos. We don't need to get into the details."

Bethany clears her throat and sits down. "I was killed by Melissa Hastings, but Alison hit me over the head with a shovel first. Melissa only pushed me into the grave thinking I was dead."

I feel like laughing at how casually they are talking about their deaths.

Maya drops to the floor next. "Everyone knows I was killed by my psycho ex."

"Yeah," I say. "Speaking of which, why isn't he here?"

"He didn't die in Rosewood," Garrett replies. "We slowly started to figure it's only the people who die _in_ Rosewood who end up stuck here."

So that explains why Shana isn't here. I was starting to wonder where she was. Garrett sits down.

"Might as well go next then," he says. "I was killed by Darren here," he looks pointedly at Wilden, who shrugs innocently.

"Why?" I ask, curious.

"Because," Wilden says. "A told me to."

"You were working for A?" I ask. "Do you know who it is?"

"We've got a little game going on here," Maya says, looking slightly excited. "We are placing bets on who A is. Like, okay. None of us know who it is, but we all have our ideas."

"Who do _you_ think it is?" I ask Maya.

"I think it's Alison," she replies. "She's been dodgy for a while."

"You talk about it like it's a book or something," I say. "This is real life. I just _died_ because of it."

"You'll get over it," Ian says.

I sigh and nod. I suppose I'll have to get over it sooner or later. I wonder if I'll ever be as laid-back about the whole thing as the rest of them are.

"I was killed by CeCe Drake," Wilden says. "But everyone knows that."

I look at Marion Cavanaugh. "Bethany killed me by accident," she says, smiling at Bethany. "I don't blame her. She didn't mean to."

"I thought she was Mrs DiLaurentis," Bethany explains. I look at Mrs D, only to see her looking rather uncomfortable.

"And you?" I ask Mrs D.

"CeCe," she replies absently.

"She's been kinda out of it," Maya whispers. "New to the life of being dead and all."

"Do you guys know who killed me?" I ask. It's been pressing on my mind for too long now. "I can't remember how it happened."

"We don't know who killed you," Garrett says. "We don't know when someone's going to die, so sadly we didn't see it happen."

"He didn't mean it like that," Marion says quickly.

"It's okay," I say. I know what he meant. Before I can say anything else, Maya is standing up.

"I'll explain everything to Mona," she says to everyone. "Come on."

I follow her through the door once more, and once more it's only us two. I don't know what to think of what I just experienced.

"They're not exactly the most exciting bunch," Maya says.

"No, not really."

"That's one of the reasons I was so excited when you died," Maya explains, and then covers her mouth quickly. " _Sorry_. I didn't mean it in a bad way. I just meant that watching you, you seem like someone I can relate to more. The others are a bit... you know."

"I get it," I say, feeling slightly flattered.

"So, you must have questions. What do you want to know?"

I don't even know where to start. I have a million questions. I wonder if Maya will be able to answer even half of the questions.

"What happened the night Alison disappeared?" I ask. This is the question that links most of my other questions, so I feel that I needed to ask.

"Oh, where to start! Let's see. Alison and CeCe wanted Wilden dead. That was the reason for everything that night."

"Why did they want him dead?" I ask. "Because he almost got Alison pregnant?"

"Exactly!" Maya says. "You know, there must be more to it but that's all I know really. The entire night was based around Alison trying to kill him. And also, she was trying to find out who A was, of course. But you know that."

I cough awkwardly. "Carry on."

"Wanna hear a shocker?" Maya asks, her eyes getting big with excitement.

"Go on," I say eagerly.

"Wilden is Bethany's father," she says.

I must say I am shocked. I would have never even thought. But... "Wait," I say. "How is that even possible?"

"He got her Mom pregnant when he was much too young to be getting _anyone_ pregnant," Maya says. "That's why it was so important that nobody knew about it. Her Mom could get arrested for being a pedophile, and he was ashamed of course. Bethany and Wilden didn't talk at all really."

"Give me a second," I say, trying to process all of this. Detective Wilden is Bethany Young's father? I feel like these answers will give me many more questions. Nevertheless, I say, "go on," to Maya.

"Right, so. Wilden moved to Rosewood to get away from that and grew up here. His fling with Alison happened and he thought he got her pregnant and that she had an abortion. That was why, when he started dating Mrs D, Alison was so furious."

"Yeah, that must be kinda weird," I say, trying to wrap my head around it.

"Alison dug up the dirt on Wilden and found out about Bethany," Maya says. "Lured her to Rosewood. She told Bethany that she and CeCe were sisters, and that Bethany could be their sister too if she came to Rosewood. Bethany bought it, of course. Being young and all.

She went to Radley because she was – well, you know. Anyways, Mrs D decided to take Bethany out and buy her things like any stepmother would do."

"Alison hated that," I say.

"Oh yeah," Maya replies. "She decided to visit Bethany with CeCe and they told her that Mrs D was lying to her about everything and that she was only getting close to her and her father so that she could kill Wilden."

"But why would Bethany buy that?"

"They told her that Mrs D knew about Wilden sleeping with Ali years ago," Maya says. "That Mrs D was trying to get revenge for her daughter.

Bethany started hating Mrs D after that. She wanted her dead. In an angry fit one night she tried to push Mrs D out of the window, but later found out that it wasn't her and was actually Marion Cavanaugh."

I am completely captivated. I have wanted to know all of this for so long now, I can't take my eyes off of Maya's face as she tells the story.

"Mrs D saw Bethany push Marion, and told Wilden. They made a vow to protect her, and made it look like Marion jumped. Anyway, that's the back story.

CeCe and Alison were still big on this sister thing with Bethany so they got three sets of matching clothes. CeCe helped break Bethany out of Radley that night and told her to wear the clothes. I'm guessing to strengthen this sister bond idea.

Bethany was out to kill Mrs D. She headed to her house, and didn't know that a jealous Alison was waiting for her. Alison hit Bethany over the head with a shovel."

I gulp.

"Wilden happened to be going to Mrs D's house that night, and saw Alison hit Bethany. He didn't know she was still alive, and that Melissa was yet to bury her. He followed Alison to her house and he was the one who hit her with a rock."

"Oh god," I say, with my hand over my mouth.

"Yeah, Mrs D saw him do it and he threatened her with something. I don't know what – they won't tell me. They won't tell any of us. But anyway, he threatened to expose something about her if she didn't cover for him.

Wilden left and Mrs D buried Alison. That's all I know. I don't know how she got out."

I nod, glad I can finally contribute and give _some_ information. "She was pulled out by someone. She didn't tell me who, but I found her on the side of the road and convinced her to 'disappear'."

" _You_ made her disappear?"

"Yeah," I say. "I hated her. I wanted her gone."

"Well," Maya says. "That solves that part of the mystery. Anyways, that's all we know. All we've pieced together. Does it make sense?"

"Only just," I say, laughing a little. "So why were you all waiting for someone else to die"

"Ah," Maya says. "You're the key. Well, we hope."

Curiosity rises in me again and I just have to ask, feeling overwhelmed by everything.

"I'm the key to what?"

"You're the key to helping us move on," she says. Then a smile appears on her face. "Or, you could also be the key to _bringing us back_."

"Bringing us back?"

"To life."


End file.
